The beginnings of a Legend
by Wrecksauce
Summary: When a young elf is captured by Imperials she cannot foresee what new perils and adventures lie before her. She will become the sole force which brings Skyrim together. She just doesn't know it yet. This story follows the events of the game to an extent but not exactly, there will be some OC from the first chapter onwards, as this isn't dragonborn centric. Name taken from Eragon


The Great War

A new day was dawning over the forest of Valenwood, the sun breached the horizon and bathed the forests in a golden glow illuminating the trees as if they were on fire with a majestic glow. Arya was, at this point in our tale, a young elf of about fifteen years, Elves lived longer than humans but they were still considered old enough to fend for themselves at eighteen or nineteen years old and were trained rigorously in archery from the age of nine or ten. Archery was the main form of defence for an Elf, indeed the Elven armies were largely made up of archers, very few elves where considered skilled enough to enter the infantry. At this point in time there was no war to train for but train they did, the archers trained vigorously from first light until the first dark talons of the night began to creep over the forest. This peace was not to last, Arya was to be a hero, and legend revered not just by the Elves of Valenwood but by all of Tamriel for deep down in this young Elf there was a great power, a fire that neither her nor her parents knew it was possible for a mortal to posses. The voice, an ancient art which harnessed the powers of the Dragons and granted the given warrior unlimited power beyond any known mortal, and Arya had it.

Fast forward five years to the start of a new crisis, nobody knew it yet but the events that were about to unfold within the continent of Skyrim would shake the entire world. For when the dragonborn comes ancient wings of cold come unfurled as men wage war, but at this moment a huntsman wanders through a mountain pass close by the imposing shadow of High Hrothgar unaware of the large shadow looming over him, he was following an Elk- a large deer like animal with large antlers- and the animal had been oblivious to the hunters presence, he took an opportunity when the deer paused and looked to the sky's for some reason to raise his bow in kind, but towards the deer's exposed head. He never took the shot. The deer had been staring at the object which had been creating the shadow, which then swooped down from the heavens and caught the Elk in a its massive maw before swooping back up into the heavens again. Needless to say the hunter was frozen in place, petrified. His hunting bow dropped to the floor, along with the arrow which was still notched to the string, the hunter then drew his dagger from its sheath and placed it on the ground before reaching into his pack and retrieving a large bottle of Skooma, he took the lid off it and emptied the contents onto the floor and threw the bottle far away in front of him, he then picking the dagger back up and, glancing to the sky, brought the weapon up to his throat. He offered one final prayer to Talos before drawing the blade slowly across his throat, tears mixing with the blood that now soaked the moist ground, he gagged on the blood in his mouth and then dropped to the side, the blood from his wound soaking into his fur coat.

A small procession of carts and horses descended the forested hills towards the small, Imperial held town of Helgen. The carts were lead by the Imperial leader, General Tullius, who rode proudly with his head held level and looking straight ahead towards the main gates of the settlement they were approaching, the sentry on the ramparts had not noticed the procession yet and was shouting insults towards another Legionary who was standing under the shade provided by a wooden house. When the General stopped his horse mere feet away from the gate and cleared his throat loudly the scout nearly jumped out of his skin, "General Tullius, Sir. The headsman is waiting", Tullius have the sentry a stern look and then started to walk his horse through the newly opened gates.

"Good, let's get this over with then", Tullius growled with a firm, accented tone. As he approached the Thalmor official, who was also on horseback, the first cart entered the gate, the cart was being pulled by two incredibly muscular horses who tossed their heads from side-to-side as the new smells of the settlement graced their noses, the driver was an Imperial scout, evident due to the lack of chain male on his armour, he looked impatient and was constantly looking over his shoulder at the occupants of his cart, and he had good reason to. The occupants of his cart wore dark blue and brown cuirasses with leather belt buckles and woollen trousers, these were Stormcloaks, the true sons and daughters of Skyrim. They stared at the back of the drivers head, boring holes into it, the driver was looking increasingly concerned for his safety as the prisoners had only been bound at the hands and were not bound to their seats, it would not be difficult for one of the large warriors to bash his brains out even with their hands bound, and he knew it.

As the first cart travelled through the gates and towards the two large watch towers at the other end of the settlement the second cart entered the gate, this time though the prisoners were not all wearing the colours of the Stormcloaks (although one was), one of the men was adorned in wolf pelts, the dark furs only making his bold features stand out more, his red hair glinted in the sunlight, the peculiar thing about this man though was the large ball of cloth pushed into his mouth. The second man was a thin being, covered in soot and dirt from having lived on the road and in stables for long periods of time, his hair was mottled with dry blood and dirt and his eyes were dim, the cold was making the thin man shake uncontrollably. The last prisoner was the most surprising though, her pointed ears and slanted, green eyes were dead give-aways as to her race, she was an Elf and a young one at that. Her green eyes were a deep, almost glowing, shade almost creating the impression she could see into other peoples souls and recount their sins to them, her hair was a shining black, glinting in the sunlight even more prominently than the fur wearing man, the tips of her ears were just visible from beneath her hair. The elf was looking around her, somehow finding the time to admire the strangely beautiful, rugged landscape of the Nord homeland Skyrim, as her eyes travelled around the settlement they fell upon the Thalmor official and her eyes narrowed, in her mind's eye she was notching back an arrow and aiming it at the head of the nearest, gold armoured High Elf. She then snapped back to reality as the cart rounded a corner and the three other elves disappeared from view.

The cart stopped in front of a stone wall and the occupants slowly disembarked, one at a time they jumped from the main body of the cart, to the step below it, and then to the floor. The Elf stumbled and almost fell to the floor when her leather boots hit the floor, but before she did she felt a large pair of hands intercept her before her collision course knocked her out, she looked up into the smiling face of a Nord, who was the only one wearing the Stormcloak cuirass from her cart, she had to admit he was quite handsome, for a Nord at least. She returned his smile and gave him a nod of thanks before straightening her back and bringing her head up, she analysed the situation, like she'd been taught by her tutor back in Valenwood. There were at least ten Imperials surrounding the small group of prisoners, not counting the two cart drivers who were just now jumping down from their seats, she had no idea about how skilled the archers were but she had a clue as to the ability of the woman standing in front of her. The woman was wearing a full set of steel armour, the helmet was also plumed, which was a symbol of rank, the elf guessed she was a captain, the woman's stance almost stank of over confidence she stood with her arms slightly bent out at the elbows and with her legs at shoulder width. The elf guessed that the woman had proven her worth somehow during her service, and therefore she didn't want to underestimate her abilities.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Yarl of Windhelm", the sudden voice brought the elf back to the real world, she couldn't place the tone of the voice, it had been bored sounding yet slightly gentile.

"It has been an honour, Yarl Ulfric!" The man next to the elf said with a sad sigh, The Elf made eye contact with the blond haired Nord and bowed her head, this was an expression used amongst her people to convey a sense of understanding and sympathy for the feelings of others. The Nord gave her a wry smile and then turned to face the mountains behind the settlement.

"Ralof of Riverwood", the bored sounding voice sounded again, this time the elf noticed where it came from, the man who was stood in front of her with a list resting on his left arm and a quill in his opposite hand looked back at her with a neutral expression. _Damn_ she said to herself when she couldn't read where his stance was from his expression. The blond haired man had begun to follow Ulfric towards the stone circle which sat in the shadow of the taller of the watch towers.

"Lokir of Rorikstead", the bored sounding man was starting to get on the elf's nerves.

"I'm not a rebel! You can't do this", the thin dirty man said with fright in his voice, "this is a mistake, I'm not with them", he then made the mistake of gesturing towards the elf as he said this. She snarled and took a step towards the thin man.

"Neither am I you moron, now shut up and you might get out of here alive", the man shuddered and nodded without uttering another word.

"I'm not asking you I'm telling you, thief. Step towards the block", the bored sounding man had taken on an aggressive tone now. The thin man looked back at the elf with wide eyes before shuffling towards the headsman's block.

"Hang on a second", the man with the list looked towards the elf and then back down at the list again, "you there, step forward" he said with a, once again, bored sounding tone. "Who are you?" He asked simply.

"My name is Arya", a simple question deserved a simple answer after all.

"It's unusual for elves such as yourself to travel to Skyrim", the man paused, "we'll make sure your remains are returned to Valenwood", this struck fear into Arya's heart. _Remains? Crap._ Her head raced, she was analysing every escape route or method she could think of and could only see one, she had to act fast, or stall for time.

"What do you mean 'remains'" she questioned with mock fear, although the fear was actually there.

"You're joking right?" the man said with irritation in his voice, "you're being executed, elf, and I suggest you co-operate or I might send you to the torture rooms", it was working the man was agitated, all she had to do was make him lose it.

"Why? I did nothing wrong", she said and leaned back on one leg, raising an eyebrow as she did so. The man was practically fuming by this point.

"You're trying my patience, elf, maybe I should just kill you myself", the man put his hand to the scabbard of his sword and looked menacingly at her.

"You didn't answer my question, Nord", she spat that last part, even though she had no problem with Nord's in general. The man finally lost his temper and came storming towards Arya, drawing his sword as he did so, when he got close enough he made a swipe for her head, but he forgot Arya was an elf. Elves had faster reflexes than humans did. Arya brought up her hands as if to protect herself, she then twitched her hands to the side at the last moment causing her attacker to break the rope binding her hands together. The man roared in frustration at this and barged into Arya knocking her backwards, onto her back, she hit her head on a stone as she fell and black clouds appeared in her vision, something came hurtling towards her and she subconsciously rolled to the side, the sword bounced of the rock which her head had been lying on and ricocheted right back into the man's lower leg. He screamed in agony and went down, the swords force having caused his bone to fracture, Arya took this opportunity to snatch up his sword, she then hauled the man heavily to his feet and held the sword to his neck with one hand while pinning his arms against his sides with her other. He yelled at the sudden weight being added to his leg and started whimpering, Arya then set part two of her plan in motion.

"All of you back off, or I'll kill this pathetic excuse for a man" she snapped, causing some of the archers to lower their bows, but some had a better angle than others. Arya ducked instinctively as an arrow whistled over her head,_ so much for that then_, she thought and without hesitation slit the man's throat with a flick of her wrist, no sooner had his writhing body hit the floor than she started to run, she dived behind a wooden hut as several arrows splintered against the floor behind her, she brought herself into a crouch and readied her sword, the unfortunate man who rounded the corner first was greeted by a sword entering his gut faster than he could blink, when the sword withdrew he stumbled backwards and then fell. Arya realised in that moment that she couldn't keep this up forever, there may be battle mages in the area and she needed a quick escape if possible, she hated mages. What she didn't expect however was the ten men that then rounded the corner all at once, with bows pointed at her. She sighed in defeat and dropped the sword, which was then picked up by the overconfident captain.

"I was going to spare you Elf", she snarled, "but now I'm angry, so you'll be executed with the rest of that rabble", she gestured towards the wide-eyed Stormcloaks, who had been in awe of Arya's swift movements. She walked begrudgingly over to the stone circle and stood with her head bowed in shame,_ what came over me? I could of escaped with my head if I'd just kept my composure, Damnit I'm such a..._ her current line of thought was interrupted by a gentile tapping on her shoulder, the blond haired Nord was smiling at her again, it was infectious, she couldn't help but smile back. The smile quickly faded though when she thought about what was going to happen, she was barely twenty and had come to Skyrim in search of adventure, twenty was very young for an Elf, who could live to be a thousand years old, if the spirits allowed it.

"Give them their last rights", the captain ordered the monk who was standing directly before them.

"As we commend your soles to Atherius, blessings of the eight divines upon you-"

"Oh for the love of Talos, IT'S NINE YOU IMPERIAL DOG" a fiery voice boomed over the monks droning, it was Ulfric who had managed to spit the cloth ball out of his mouth and was now striding towards the monk, he was met by Tullius and the Captain who crossed their swords and barred his way. Then a faint roaring noise could be heard, it sent a chill down Arya's spine and she shivered visibly.

"What was that?" the nearest soldier said with a noticeable stutter.

"It was nothing, Soldier. Now Stormcloak, I'm going to enjoy this", the general snarled under his breath so only Ulfric could hear it. The roaring sounded again, this time closer, Arya could have sworn she saw a black silhouette come from behind the mountains, only to be obscured by the watch tower. Then the black shape appeared again, though this time Arya could make out what it was, it was huge, its head alone was the size of her entire body, and its wings were as long as one of the oldest trees back in Valenwood. She gasped as she realised what it was, it was a Dragon, they were mentioned in the scripts back in the vast libraries in Valenwood, but she had never seen one before, mostly because they had all been killed by the Nord heroes many hundreds of years ago. She shuddered as she recalled how the scripts had told of the Dragons never ending hunger for destruction, how entire cities had been destroyed by their fiery wraths. This one defiantly looked hungry, she noted with a smile.

The dragon surveyed the mass of people standing before it, its hungry eyes searching for the most easy prey, its large, hollow eyes then fell upon Arya and it seemed to pause in its search. If a Dragon could smirk, it would have been doing it. The huge black beast drew back its head and roared, summoning dark, grey, swirling clouds which darkened the sun, its empty eyes then started to glow with magics long forgotten and it roared again, this time at the gathering of bewildered legionnaires and Stormcloaks but something was different about this roar, there were defiantly syllables to it, it was speaking. Whatever language it spoke could not have been common because as it spoke a large shockwave pulsed through the crowd, knocking several survivors off their feet, Arya included. She hit the floor hard, the back clouds returning to her vision, she once again felt hands on her shoulder but this time there were two pairs, she looked up to see that she was being dragged briskly towards the door of the second watch tower, the one the Dragon was not perched on. The trio made it to the relative safety a large stone tower offered them and Arya felt herself being lowered to the floor, she rolled onto her back and saw the blond haired Nord again, he was no longer smiling. His face was the sole of worry and anxiety, his features scrunched together in deep thought, his brow wrinkled. Arya looked to her left to see who her other savour had been, it was Ulfric Stormcloak, the larger Nord had flattened himself against the wall and was breathing heavily. The blond haired Nord,_ oh what was his name? _Arya though desperately, trying to remember. _Ralof!_ She remembered and tried to call out but her voice was only a whisper, like a calm summers breeze, she mentally made a few unmentionable oaths and tried again, only to produce the same result. She finely just gave up and sat quietly against the wall and caught her breath, Ralof then spoke up.

"Yarl Ulfric? Was that a dragon? Like from the old tails and legends?" Ralof sounded unsure of what action to take, he was also fearful for the villagers.

"Legends don't burn down villages" Ulfric said quietly, his voice laced with anger. Arya wanted to share her knowledge with them but she could not move or speak. Ulfric seemed to catch onto this and strode over to her stricken form, "this might hurt a bit" he said calmly, regaining his composure. Arya winced as a golden glow manifested in his outstretched palm and then enveloped her own body, healing her aches and pains, a feeling of relief and restoration fell over her and she got to her feet.

"Dragons are not known for their friendly nature", she said slowly, "their actions in the past are written in our passages as great feats of destruction and chaos", she stopped and looked hard at the younger Nord, she said younger but he was likely older than she was.

"I know that", he said, "but I can't understand why it would just attack like that, without mercy or even an honourable speech" he sounded as confused as he was.

"Well maybe we shouldn't stand here arguing about it", Arya paused and paced over towards one of the many arrow slits which adorned the towers walls, she looked outside and gasped, the village was on fire, all of it. Flames erupted from the hay roofed houses and lit up the sky with an orange glow, she stared as the dragon tore half of the watch tower next to theirs up into the air and threw it across the settlement and onto a large collection of warriors near the main gate, they all screamed and tried to run but the chunk of stone was too big, they were all crushed under its weight. Arya tore her eyes away from the scene and looked around, there was a small side door behind the hut outside, she mentally mapped the safest rout and then turned to the two men behind her. "Follow me", the other two nodded and she moved towards the door, as she stuck her head through it she caught sight of a imperial soldier flying from one side of the village to the other, she gasped and slid out of the door and around the corner so she was against the wall of the tower, she made sure the other two were following her and then jumped the gap between the tower wall and the safety provided by the back wall of the house opposite. She rolled as she landed and quickly straightened up, the two men made the jump after her, albeit less gracefully but they were Nords, grace was not their forte. She was just about to move towards the door when a figure stumbled out around the corner and slumped against the wall, he slid down it, whimpering as he did so. Arya moved over to him cautiously and looked at the man, it was the thief, his face was even more blackened than before and his clothes were more or less gone, thankfully his private areas were covered. Not that it mattered, the man was dead, more likely from fear than from injury.

Arya moved towards the door and opened it, the country side beyond was bare and provided little cover, but it was the only option. She silently made a beckoning motion with her hand and then sprinted out into the landscape, she had no idea where she was going only that she knew it was away from this place, that was good enough for now. The trio ran at full speed across the open plain and into a small body of trees just beyond it, Arya moved quicker than the Nords, Elves were naturally faster and more agile and they were proud of it, so when the other two made it to the tree line Arya raised an eyebrow and a half smile formed on her lips when Ralof partially collapsed onto his knees and practically drank the air. "That was not fun", he said between breaths, this drew a quiet laugh from Ulfric and a sigh and a head headshake from Arya, _men_ she thought. She would never understand them.


End file.
